


We won't stop until the angels sing

by heavensfallingaroundus



Category: British Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Choking, Drunk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 08:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus/pseuds/heavensfallingaroundus
Summary: Richard is back in London, and Taron couldn't be happier about it.





	We won't stop until the angels sing

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I found buried in my phone notes, that I thought was complete and utter shite at the time—probably still is, to be fair. But here it is, anyways.
> 
> Rushed, unbeta-ed, and the whole shebang. Just some very, _very_ indulgent porn.
> 
> Obviously, thanks to Teddy for the filthy lyrics and the catchy tune. Truly a man after my own heart.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this shitty PWP.

The beat is sickening and Richard pulls Taron in, because the man’s been teasing him all night and he's had just about enough.

They're close now, so close, and Taron is grinding on him, knees on each side of Richard’s left thigh—and, Richard can feel it, he's hard. Which, mixed with the light whiff of Dior Sauvage he just got from Taron's neck, inevitably sends a thrill down his spine and right down to his own cock.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Taron is slowly but surely driving Richard absolutely bloody _mental_. Penetrating him with those eyes, smirking—he's especially ravishing, tonight, in his plain white tee and skinny black jeans, and he _definitely_ knows it. Taron is clutching his glass of overcharged vodka and tonic, and his hips are swaying to the music, and Richard is at a point where he just wants to push him up against a wall and ruin him.

Taron is actually mouthing the lyrics now—it's Ed Sheeran, it's relatively new, and it's catchy as fuck. Apropos, the chorus comes in, and Richard is suddenly so very grateful they're in a club only a few blocks from his apartment, because he feels like he might explode any minute now.

_So join me in this bed that I'm in_

_Push up on me and sweat, darling_

_So I’m gonna put my time in_

_I won't stop until the angels sing_

_Jump in that water, be free_

_Come south of the border with me_

—

"Fuck, Rich... Ohhh, my _God_... Another, please..."

Taron is sprawled on Richard's bed and squirming around his fingers, which are stretching him open, less gently and delicately than usual, because he's just not in the mood for that right now—and Taron doesn’t sound like he is, either.

The way he’s begging… _fuck_. Richard needs him, now—quick, fast, _hard_. He is physically aching to hear Taron scream his name.

He adds a third finger, then, and without warning he takes Taron's aching length in his mouth—a swift, deep kind of affair, which makes Taron's back arch in the most delicious way to buck into Richard’s touch, and which also gets a string of beautifully filthy words out of the man’s pretty, thoroughly kissed mouth.

Three fingers become four and Taron is crying out now, his moans like angel song to Richard's ears. He looks like he’s undecided on whether to fuck himself further down onto Richard's knuckles or up into his mouth, and his body probably decides it's all too much, because the back of Richard's throat is suddenly hit hard by the tip of the man’s cock—three sudden jolts of Taron's hips are all it takes, and come is flowing hot and salty down Richard’s throat.

Richard's fingers feel crushed by Taron's overly stimulated hole, which he reckons he needs to plunge into right about now. So he retracts them, slowly—achingly so.

And, God, the _noises_ Taron is making. That's definitely something Richard will never get tired of hearing. _Ever_.

Taron also makes the prettiest picture—his legs spread open, the hands holding his thighs up now trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm—truly a sight for sore eyes. And Richard knows he can't wait a second longer.

“You taste so good, gorgeous… Y’think ye can do that again for me, love?” Richard palms himself through his black boxers and distinctly feels wetness there. His body is covering Taron’s, now, and his lips are hovering over the man’s neck. Taron still smells like the damn cologne that makes Richard’s head spin.

Richard plants a wet kiss in the crane of Taron’s neck, and a powerful vibration reaches his lips as Taron groans—heaving, sweating, nodding, _begging_.

“Please, Rich, I _need _you.”

“Want me tae fill you up, do ye, love?”

“Please. _Please_. Yes.”

Richard kisses him fiercely, tongues battling against each other, one hand coming up to cup Taron’s jaw. He feels stubble, there, and that single detail somehow makes him even harder.

There’s no time to get out of his underwear, really. He simply yanks it down, impatient, immediately grabbing the bottle of lube again and helping himself to a hefty dose of the cold liquid. He wants this to be perfect—it’s been so _fucking_ long.

Sinking in, it feels like Richard is finally back where he belongs. All those lonely nights spent in Los Angeles, all the back-and-forth flights, all the bullshit interviews, all the promo and press junkets, all the auditions for new roles—everything in his life feels like it’s fast-paced and overdone and _fake_. Moments like this one, in bed with Taron, are what he lives for.

Taron is _who_ he lives for.

“My God, Dickie, _yes_…” Taron moans, as Richard is getting deeper, burying himself fully, feeling every inch of him being welcomed into that sacred space. They’ve not even properly started, yet, and it’s already incredible.

“How long’s… it been? You’re so _tight_, fuck,” Richard groans, unable to help himself. His cock feels like it’s being _hugged_ by that perfect hole. Has this ever felt so good?

“Been good for you, R—oh, fuck, _move_, _now_, _please_,” Taron begs once again—unhinged, drunk and high on endorphins. “It’s been _months_,” he finally obliges, unexpectedly managing a coherent sentence.

Richard mentally kicks himself for that. He never wants to spend this long without making love to this incredible man ever again. On the other hand, though—distance does make the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it?

“Fuck, I love you, Taron,” Richard says, thrusting himself in and pressing his body flush against Taron’s. His elbows rest on each side of Taron’s head, and he sees the man’s face contort into a blissful expression at the sudden movement.

“Mmmghlove you too, Richard,” he mumbles, his eyes closed, his lips curling up into a delighted grin. He opens his eyes again, then. “I love you _so much_.”

Richard’s heart is full and his cock is harder than ever. So he bites down on his lower lip, and finally concentrates—does the _thrusting_ thing again. And again. And _again_. It’s slow at first, calculated—but it quickly becomes too much, and he _has to_ move faster, more erratically, and Taron’s legs close around him almost automatically, and it’s like two puzzle pieces clicking together. It’s effortless, and it’s _perfect_, and can this please last forever?

“Missed… you… so… much… baby…” he grunts, in-between thrusts, lips on Taron’s again, kissing him desperately. Taron’s left hand is on Richard’s jaw and he’s pulling him close, keeping their heads together, refusing to let go, and he’s breathing hard into Richard’s mouth, and his moans are so high-pitched and bordering on _whiny_, and each sound is an actual electric shock of pleasure shooting through Richard’s whole body and directly reaching his cock.

Then, muscle memory kicks in again. Richard’s left hand grabs Taron’s hair and pulls his head back, exposing the man’s neck—the same neck he’s been kissing and sucking at for what feels like hours, now. That’s the moment when his right hand closes around said neck—Richard knows how much Taron _loves_ it when he does this, and the knowledge of that alone is usually enough to send him over the edge. Now, however, it distinctly looks like Taron has everything set out to make Richard lose his damn mind for good.

His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are rolling back into his skull and he’s being louder than ever, and he’s asking for _more_, and Richard tightens his grip around his neck and pins him against the mattress, and Taron is obliging, taking it _so well_—he’s _loving it _and it’s just _so hot_. The fact that Taron is pushing back against his hand to heighten the sensation is absolutely obliterating every functioning neuron that Richard has left—every single one of them is now drowning in the feeling of Taron all around him and the _power_ in his right hand, and the way Taron wants and trusts him completely. The knowledge that Taron also _loves_ him every bit as much as Richard does, well, it just makes this whole thing that much better.

“There, Rich, that’s—_fuck_, harder, please, gonna come again…” Taron wheezes. That registers very quickly, and Richard feel the overcoming urge to get deeper, to feel even more of Taron, to make this the best orgasm the man’s ever had in his life—so Taron’s legs suddenly _need_ to be on Richard’s shoulders, and he _needs_ to stop choking the man in favour of leaning even further into him—but he equally still _needs_ to keep kissing him and feeling those pretty lips vibrate against his, the moans escaping them becoming increasingly more piercing and obscene.

Richard picks up the pace again, his thighs effectively slapping against Taron’s arse, and _he_’s also being loud—his own grunts echoing against the walls in the nearly empty bedroom, bouncing against still-packed suitcases and heavy boxes of books and awards. Richard pins both of Taron’s arms down against the bed, grabbing his wrists at first, then intertwining their fingers, loving, gentle. Lips are crashing again, and Taron is moaning _I love you_ and _close_ against Richard mouth, and, after what feels like hours but most likely is just a bunch of seconds, Richard has no strength to hold him down anymore, so he lets go of Taron’s arms and he just comes down on his elbows, unable to stop himself from kissing and kissing and kissing the man beneath him, who is now effectively _clenching_ against his cock and begging him for _more_, and _harder, please, Rich_.

Taron’s fingers are suddenly all over Richard’s abs, chest, neck—his hand just comes up to rest there, in fact, because Richard loves being choked as much as Taron does, and Taron _knows_ it. Richard presses his neck against Taron’s touch, and he distinctly feels the high coming, now—it’s closer and closer, and the fingers around him are tighter and tighter, and it’s _wonderful_.

Taron’s other hand first grabs Richard on the spot where his hamstring meets his right buttock, pulling him closer and closer with every thrust, fingers digging painfully and deliciously in Richard’s flesh. Then, the same hand joins the one already on Richard’s neck, and Taron fastens his grip so expertly and effectively—and the high is coming, Richard can feel it, and he’s sweating and plowing into Taron more and more frantically, and he’s getting there, he’s there, he’s there, he can _taste_ it now—the overwhelming sensation of handing over control accelerating his pace in the climb towards sweet release, and Taron is _amazing_ and Richard loves him _so fucking much_ and _fuck, love, fuck, fuck, fuck, so good_, and Richard just comes and comes inside that perfect heat, filling him up completely. Taron grips him even tighter as he comes again too, untouched—moaning Richard’s name over and over again.

Five minutes later, they’re dripping in sweat and they’re still panting, but they’re also kissing passionately and holding hands—only stopping to whisper sweet nothings to each other and giggling, giddy happy, into each other’s necks.

And to think they could potentially be doing this every night, from now on. Isn’t that just _marvellous_?

Moving back to London truly is the best idea Richard’s _ever_ had.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say that it's a complete fucking coincidence that the [music video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPOT2tgY9QQ) for this song just came out two days ago.  
I didn't go looking for this story. It just popped back on its own accord.  
Yeah. I know. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are the air I breathe, as usual.
> 
> Love y'all very much, and see you on Tuesday.
> 
> C x


End file.
